


The Wünderland Chronicles: Book I - Harte's Witt

by Dominik_Lestadte



Series: The Wünderland Chronicles [1]
Category: Alice In Wonderland - Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alice in Wonderland References, F/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:05:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7992949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dominik_Lestadte/pseuds/Dominik_Lestadte





	1. The Prisoner's Confession

"My name is Alistair Thaddeus Harte," murmured a young, fragile voice. Its volume, hoarse and hollow, whispered tirelessly into the dark. "I am twenty five years old. I live in Cambridge with my mum and dad." A hand reached out in the abyss to reach out for a quill, trembling and fidgeting out fluttered shadows in the moonlit night.

Allistair's feeble hand, now grasped onto its tool, dipped the pen into its inkwell jar, swished a brief moment and then stabbed thunderously onto its canvas. He looked up to take a quick sigh and then immediately down again onto his stone slab of a desk to begin his script. Allistair's raggedy auburn hair covered his brow as he hunched only slightly to re-position himself. The only coverage he had worn was his prison's garb and a coat, which once was a jacket fit for an aristocrat, was tattered with soot and tears, and had rested only just on the edge of the small wooden stool the young man had squatted on.

"What I may tell you may not be believable and maybe it will," he had resumed his frantic scribbling. "It isn't easy being held captive within my own mind, but I assure you that in my fullest, honest to good faith, that this is absolutely and totally what I have seen...." Each movement became less steady than the last. Allistair bit his chapped lower lip with attentiveness and hoped to complete his writing before daybreak.

He then cleared his throat, even raspier than before, from hours of dehydration. He glanced up again from within the prison's cell to which he sat. It was eerily quiet this night, apart from the lone grunts and wheezes of the inmates around him. Drops of cold sweat fell from his face, which was beaten and his pale blue eyes began to moisten as well. Tears began to seep from the corners of his frail face, but that didn't stop him from continuing his work.

The young Alistair was wrongfully imprisoned for insanity and he kept wondering why no one would ever believe him. As a son of a bureaucrat to seek such a sentence, for such a jovial young thing to commit, no normal thing like this should have been punished. He looked down and rubbed his scalp; flakes of dandruff and dust fell onto his filthy petticoat. He resumed his writing, continuing to huff in heavily as he worded every detail of his testimony. He pushed himself to go further and further onto the parchment. After all, with this amount of tireless effort, this statement may yet in fact be his very last.


	2. Chapter 2

We begin our tale in the beginning of spring in the small town of Cambridge, or rather, it was a little village that through many years of such advances in developmental progress made it grow into the prosperous place it is today. Though originally rich in rural diversity, Cambridge had evolved from harvesting commercial goods to a simple marketing community. The year is seventeen hundred eighty-three, and Britain had lost much of its wealth during its great War against the United States. The King took it upon himself to distribute a handsome share of his wealth to the many Lords and Barons who remained loyal under his rule, and to each of the farms throughout the region to boost morale and encourage economic growth. One of the families in Cambridge, under the house of Harte, was just fortunate enough to obtain royalties from the Crown, as they were all long-term members of the aristocracy.

Lord Terrelle Arvid Harte IV, son of the late Baron Terrelle Arvid Harte III of Cambridge, was happily married to his beautiful bride and had two sons and one daughter. Terrelle V, Allistair and Lunella, all four years apart from each other, were beautiful and gifted children. Each of them had lovely sapphire coloured eyes, wispy golden hair and of course fair skin; it was really no surprise that they were well admired and also very well resented for being the offspring of a very wealthy lord of the King's court.


End file.
